


In the Hour it Took Me to Fall in Love with You

by HixyStix, whiplashcrash



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: But we used it anyway, Kallus is having a hard time, Love Confessions, M/M, Self-sacrificing idiocy, Star Wars Rebels: Fifty First Dates Style, Stop being so mean to Kix please Kallus, That's Not How The Force Works, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplashcrash/pseuds/whiplashcrash
Summary: To say that love came easy was a boldfaced lie. Kallus knew all too well that their lives were too uncertain, too unpredictable for love to be easy, or for him to be able to hide his feelings from Zeb without regrets. If this was all there was meant to be, then so be it.One devastating fury of fuel later, however, and Kallus finds himself experiencing the hour in which he has to find Zeb and confront the love he feels for him or risk facing the consequences of his failure for an unrelenting eternity of pain.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 45
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shippingandrecieving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingandrecieving/gifts).



> A birthday fic for one of our favorite people! Hope your day was great, Ship!

Tonight. 

It had to happen tonight or it wouldn’t happen at all because Alexsandr Kallus was going to burst into a million pieces from the sheer pressure of it all.

For two years, he’d been best friends with Zeb. For two years, he’d been hopelessly, desperately in love with Zeb. For two years, he’d stayed terrified Zeb would find out and end their friendship; the best thing that had ever happened to Kallus.

For two years, he’d held himself so tightly shut that no romantic emotions or intentions could be discerned.

Eventually, though, all dams break.

And Kallus was going to break. Tonight, after dinner, when he usually hung out with Zeb anyway.

“I love you, Garazeb Orrelios,” he planned to say, in the moonlight under the stars. “I know I’ve loved you since Atollon. I think I’ve loved you since Bahryn. Without you, there’s no telling who or what I would have become. I need you in my life, Zeb, from here on out.”

As long as he didn’t run away, it would be okay if Zeb didn’t return his feelings; Kallus could rein his emotions in again. They just had to burst forth at least once. He couldn’t hold them in any longer.

He ran the speech – not his most eloquent, but it got the point across – through his head a few more times, just to be sure there weren’t any hidden stumbling blocks. He had it memorized perfectly, tone and inflection and all, and was practicing one last time when the klaxon sounded.

A slowly undulating wail went off across the base, calling pilots and crews to their ships.

Immediately ready for action, Kallus dropped his datapad on his desk and ran to meet the _Ghost_ crew before they could take off without him. Hera typically wouldn’t leave him behind, but she might if he didn’t hurry during a general alarm.

All over the base, ships were being prepped. Fuel reserves were being topped off, extra cargo off-loaded, and snubfighter pilots donning helmets and life-support suits. The _Ghost_ sat on the far end of the landing zone, ready to take off quickly. Thankfully, the ramp was still down.

“What’s going on?” he asked, breathlessly skidding into the hold. 

“Relax first.” Zeb – completely and utterly oblivious to how his voice melted Kallus’s heart – smiled. Then, to compound things, he squeezed Kallus’s shoulder in a brotherly fashion.

Beside him, Chopper made a mocking _wah-waahhh_ sound. Kallus managed not to glare at the droid for his teasing.

Kallus took a deep breath, slowing his breathing from his run through the base. “Okay,” he said. “I’m relaxed. What’s going on?”

“Dunno yet. Hera will tell us soon, though.”

Why hadn’t Zeb said that from the start? Rolling his eyes in frustration, Kallus bit his tongue. He might be head over heels for the lasat, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to kill him sometimes.

Rex, already clad in the remnants of his clone trooper armor, leaned over the upper deck’s railing. “Hurry!” he instructed. “She’s waiting on you two.”

Kallus dutifully hurried up the ladder, Zeb right behind him. The three men squeezed into the cockpit, standing shoulder to shoulder while they waited for Hera to give them instructions.

Warmth seeped through the fabric of Kallus’s jacket from Zeb’s arm and it sent an incongruous shiver down his spine.

Hera didn’t even look at them; she just continued the _Ghost_ ’s start-up sequence. “There’s a Destroyer going to meet a refueling ship over Mygeeto,” she explained. “We’re going to get there first and take the fuel.”

Jostling Kallus a little, Zeb clapped one hand over his other closed fist, a move that signaled he was ready to fight. “We’ll go in quick and knock ‘em out, then?”

“Quickly and silently,” Hera confirmed. “The fleet’s coming to cover us in case the Destroyer shows early.”

Kallus nodded. The Rebellion was expending a lot of fuel on this mission, but if they got a Destroyer’s worth of fuel reserves, it would keep things running for a year.

This mission could make or break the Rebellion; they’d been successful at Yavin IV, but the outlook since then was still iffy.

Hera flew the _Ghost_ to its place at the head of the fleet and synchronized all the ships’ navicomputers for the jump to hyperspace. One by one, ships blinked out on the scanner.

The trip to Mygeeto was over before too long. Zeb and Rex didn’t even have time to _really_ get into it over sabacc, a relief for Kallus, who was tired of listening to them argue on every single mission.

Dropping into realspace, they saw the fueling cruiser orbiting Mygeeto slowly, waiting to deliver its precious cargo. A single Rebel transport ship followed the _Ghost_ in, ready to dock and drop off commandos to clear the ship and pick up the fuel.

As they approached, the cruiser dropped half a squadron of TIEs and the Rebel’s snubfighters shot forward, picking them off one by one.

“Rex, you stay here and man a gun,” Hera instructed. “Zeb, Kallus, go check out the situation on board. You’ll have back up with you shortly.”

Instinctively, Kallus checked that his blaster power cells were charged and that he had extras in his holster before nodding at Zeb. He was good to go and glad to let the lasat take charge.

If that meant he had to follow Zeb and watch his every movement and every flexing of muscle, well, that was a sacrifice Kallus was willing to make.

Zeb led the way back through the ship to the starboard docking mechanism. Hera guided the ship in easily, ignoring the snubfighter dogfighting going on around them, and opened the doors once the ships were latched together.

To Kallus’s great surprise and worry, there weren’t any stormtroopers waiting for them.

“Maybe they’re all protecting the fuel,” Zeb suggested, starting to creep down the hall.

“Wait!” hissed Kallus. “We have backup coming that can check for booby traps so that you don’t blow yourself up charging on in.”

Zeb looked slightly guilty. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They waited as the _Ghost_ left the area and the _Freedom_ docked next, depositing a squad of commandos.

Zeb split them up; half to follow him, half to follow Kallus. Two went ahead, sweeping the passage for obvious traps.

Once the all-clear was signaled, Kallus and Zeb advanced until they reached a crosswise hall.

“Which way do you want to go?” Kallus asked.

“We’ll split up,” Zeb said, sounding certain. “I’ll take the bridge, you check the hold. Comm me if you get into any trouble and I’ll do the same.”

A bad feeling gnawed at Kallus’s stomach, but he nodded. “See you back here in ten. No later, you got it?”

“I got it. Go, Kal, we’re wasting time.”

Kallus and his commandos crept down the hallway, aiming for the hold. The closer they got, the more anxious he felt that they hadn’t run into anyone yet.

Once they reached the hold, he saw why.

“Zeb!” he called into his comlink. “Zeb, they’ve rigged the fuel to blow; this whole thing is a trap. _Get out of there!_ ”

Following his own advice, Kallus and his men ran full-speed back to the _Freedom_ , skidding inside just before the tell-tale cracking of overheated fuel cells reached them. He looked around for a familiar purple figure, but Zeb wasn’t there. 

Kallus’s heart clenched.

“Where’s Captain Orrelios?” he asked the _Freedom_ ’s crew who met them, managing not to sound too overly worried.

“Hasn’t checked in since your last call, Captain Kallus.” The man looked as stressed as Kallus felt.

Kallus pushed up his sleeves. “I’m going after him.”

“No, you can’t, sir,” said the man. “The instructions from General Syndulla are–”

“I don’t care,” Kallus snapped. “Zeb and six good men are still on that ship and we aren’t going to leave them behind, you hear? I’ll deal with General Syndulla if we have to.”

Kallus spun on his heels and started down the passageway to the docking port again, but that was the moment when everyone ran out of time.

The sounds of explosions came from the cruiser’s hold, heat washing down the corridor even though they were a good distance from the hold. Kallus knew it was only seconds before a fireball followed.

“ _ZEB_!” he screamed, the sound ripping from his throat unbidden, uncensored.

He felt someone clamp down on his arms, twisting them painfully behind his back in a hold, but Kallus didn’t care. He had to get to Zeb.

Wrenching his arms free, he ran full-speed down the short hallway. Before the _Freedom’s_ captain could close the doors, Kallus slid through.

“Zeb!” he called, again and again, but all he could hear was the roar of the fireball as it collapsed in on itself once more, retreating to the hold. The air was scorching hot and hard to breathe and full of smoke. Kallus dropped to his knees to get more oxygen.

Crawling, he found the cross hallway where they’d split off. 

Cockpit. He needed the cockpit. That was off to the left, away from the epicenter of the explosion, so maybe Zeb and his men were okay. Maybe they were still alive.

Kallus would find out.

He crawled forward, taking the left turn, praying to the Ashla for deliverance the whole time.

The ship was fairly small – even a Destroyer’s worth of fuel didn’t take up much space – so Kallus reached his destination quickly.

If he concentrated, he could hear someone gasping for breath, but he couldn’t see anyone. He crouched down more, trying to see around the room under the smoke. His leg bumped a stack of crates.

He never heard the one that fell on his head and knocked him out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated birthday, Ship! I hope it was the best one yet! :)

It should’ve startled Kallus when he woke up to see the same face on half a dozen officers. The crisp grey uniforms were odd to look at, and he didn’t quite recognize where he was, but the fact that these bridge officers were helping him instead of trying to kill him should have told him something. It didn’t.

“Sir, oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!” One of them cried.

“Sir!”

“Sir, are you alright?” A third officer kneeling by his head asked, offering a gloved hand for Kallus to take

His Imperial habits fell back into place easily, some part of him screamed for him to get up, to get on his feet, to not look so weak. “I’m fine.”

They all spoke at once, the same voice overlapping in many different ways.

“Are you sure?”

“Let me help you up,”

“On the _bridge_ of all places,” 

Kallus’s vision went in and out of focus, the bright lights of whatever was on the other side of the doors blinding him as they swooshed open. 

Kallus swatted at their hands and put his own on his temple with a pained groan, because _ow_ someone had hit him over the head really kriffing hard. 

“Stop swarming him, for the love of- back off!” Came a familiar, yet unexpected voice. 

“Colonel Yularen?” He mumbled, half-aware of his surroundings even as he adjusted to the glaring light pouring in from either side of where his mentor was standing. 

“Colonel?” The man barked a laugh, his not quite grey hair slicked back on either side of his head. “I believe the title you’re looking for is Admiral,” Yularen said, crouching by Kallus’s side with a kind smile.

“Admiral?” Kallus asked, wincing as he was eased into a sitting position by a medic with a funny tattoo wrapped around his head and colorful blue paint on his armor. “Oh, I must have really hit my head.”

“Indeed you did.” Yularen said, nodding at the medic, who proceeded to dab at his injuries with a cloth doused in some sort of antiseptic. “I’m sorry to say one of my men was not exercising caution when moving some crates, and I must apologize most sincerely for the injuries you sustained while on board my ship.”

Kallus nodded, still struggling to figure out exactly what was happening, but oh, blast it, his head was killing him. Everything seemed… off.

“ _Your_ ship?” A playful voice came into Kallus’s ears without appearing in his sight. “Admiral, isn’t this my ship?” 

“Only if I’m dead, General,” Admiral Yularen quipped, rising from his crouch next to Kallus to stand in front of a man with a mullet and a wry grin. 

“That’s not what I was told.” The General grinned, looking from Yularen and over his shoulder at another man, with a faint hint of red to his brown hair, and sculpted beard. 

“Oh, Anakin,” the bearded man scoffed. “Don’t torture the good Admiral. We have matters to discuss that don’t require your sharp wit and experience with insults.”

Kallus squinted up at the third man, whose kind smile and blue eyes brought back a faint memory, one he couldn’t quite place. 

Anakin laughed, placing an arm over the man’s shoulders. “Sorry, Obi-Wan, I can’t help it.”

Obi-Wan shook his head but smiled at both the Admiral and Kallus, who was slowly beginning to realize he was surrounded by not one man who seemed to stretch out into a dozen, but multiples of the same face. It was a face he knew well. 

Clones. Clones of that bounty hunter, Jango Fett, from an era long past. 

“Please take our guest to the medical bay. We can be reacquainted there, after we have our discussion with the good Captain.” Said Obi-Wan.

 _General Kenobi_ , his mind supplied, and Kallus gaped. _Jedi Generals, Clone officers, and_ Admiral _Yularen about ten years younger._

“Yes, General.” Admiral Yularen said, pulling Kallus out of his train of thought. 

“Alright,” the medic, the _Clone_ medic, said. “That’s all I can do for now. Let’s get you a bacta patch. Hopefully that pretty face of yours won’t scar too badly.”

“A scar?” Kallus couldn’t help it, it was an impossible habit to break, he was horrified. “On my face?”

“Not if you’re lucky, and with me as your medic, you just might be.”

It took about an hour, but Kix, the kind medic with the aurebesh tattoos and short hair applied the bacta and offered to provide him a few pain tabs, an offer which Kallus gladly accepted

When he stirred, the small flashlight in his eyes made him squeeze them shut and flinch away from the medic’s touch. It reminded him far too much of unnecessary explosions. “So you don’t remember what happened?” Kix asked, shaking the pain tabs out of their container and into the lid. Kallus took them from his hand meekly, and swallowed with the canister of cool water at his bedside.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Kallus said sheepishly. “Just waking up on the floor and the officers arguing.”

“I’m really sorry about all that.” The Clone shrugged, tapping away at a datapad and shaking his head. “The Admiral and the Generals mean well, but really, it’s hard to figure out much of anything with all of these tense negotiations going on. 

“What am I doing on a Republic Star Destroyer?” Kallus asked, frowning at Kix as he fiddled with a couple of things on an instrument tray. 

Kix turned over his shoulder with a look of concern that made even Kallus uneasy. “Oh boy, I’d better check for a brain bleed. You really aren’t doing so well. The Senator will kill me if you end up with a scar and brain damage, too.”

“It’s really just memory loss, I’m sure. I’ll be fine.” Kallus said as soothingly as he could muster. As much as Kix seemed competent, making the Clone uneasy was not in the best interest of Kallus or any other potential brain injury he might have. “Which senator am I here with?”

“Oh, I have no clue. Some big negotiator or someone. I’m just a medic, they don’t really tell me things.” Kix shrugged, keying up a machine Kallus suspected was for a scan of some sort. "But these negotiations are important, I can tell you that much.”

“Really?” Kallus asked as he laid down on the table Kix patted his hand on.

“Really. I think they’re a good thing, we need as many allies as we can get in this war, but it’s like walking on eggshells with these Lasats around everywhere.”

“Lasats?” Kallus shot up despite his aching head, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the metal rim.

Kix snorted. “Yeah, Lasats. Man, you don’t remember anything, do you?” 

“Where?” He asked Kix desperately, who seemed a little more than amused at Kallus’s antics.

“Well, there’s one righ’ here,” Came the sly voice from the doorway.

Everything came flooding back. The Rebellion, the Empire, his defection, his best friend, and the explosion. 

_“Garazeb.”_

Kallus laughed in disbelief, pushing himself off the medical bed and stumbling across the room despite Kix’s avid protesting to reach Zeb. He was regal, and _young_ , but still handsome and a walking stone wall with all the same imposing presence as before. He looked good. “Garazeb Orrelios, you’re here!”

The Lasat stiffened, and he took a step back from the bandaged human with a look on his face that screamed uncomfortable. “Uh, that’s my name. Do I know you?”

“Do you know me?” Kallus snorted. “Very funny, Garazeb.”

“Nobody calls me Garazeb ‘cept for my Gran when I’m in trouble.”

Kallus snorted. “I know. You told me.”

“I told you?” Zeb recoiled, ears flattening. “I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else, there, buddy.”

With a roll of his eyes, Kallus shook his head. _Typical Zeb._ “Where’ve you been?”

“The bridge, then my temporary quarters here on the cruiser.” Zeb said slowly, “Thought I’d see how you were doing after you got clobbered up there.”

Kallus waved his hand dismissively. “You sure took your sweet time.” The ex-Imperial grinned.

Zeb, however frowned, his face taking on that stern look usually reserved for uppity recruits or false alarms that dragged him out of bed too early for his own liking. “Look, I don’t know what your _deal_ is, but I was just trying to be friendly and see how you were doing.” He said, crossing 

“Of course you were.” It made sense, after all, why wouldn’t Zeb have come to check on him.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna go now.”

“Go?” Kallus repeated, confusion and a touch of hurt rippling through his insides. “Go where?”

With a scoff and annoyed glare, Zeb stared down Kallus without any hint of compassion to ward off the growing sense of failure and inadequacies whose input on his thoughts only became louder “Anywhere but here.”

“Zeb, wait,” Kallus reached for the Lasat’s arm, but was surprised when Zeb backed out into the hallway. His good-natured demeanor faded. “I said wait. What’s wrong with you?”

“Karabast, I really hoped this was just because you hit your head.” He shook his head. “Guess I was wrong. I’m trying to be the good guy here, but even if your head is all screwed up, you need to back off.”

“Back off?” Kallus repeated, the hand he’d had reaching out for Zeb withdrawing. He flinched as if Zeb had struck him. 

“I meant what I said. You back _off,”_ Zeb growled. “Or I’ll make you.”

 _“_ Garazeb _,”_ Kallus pleaded, eyes wide and desperate, only for the ship’s klaxon to go off. This sound he recognized, much the same as the cold unfeeling identical hallways of the ship from his years of Imperial service.

Zeb looked all around them, ears flicking around as Clones ran through the halls shouting. “What’s happening?” He demanded.

“It’s a general alarm,” Kallus said, “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s not good.”

“I think I know,” Zeb said, pointing to the curdling flames that burst past the slowly closing blast doors and down the hall. “Run for it!” He shouted, but the blast doors in front of their eyes closed too.

No sooner did Kallus’s eyes meet Zeb’s than the ship around them vanished in a horrible bang he felt rattling his bones, and the smell of molten durasteel.

* * *

Kallus’s eyes snapped open with a jerk of his whole body and his hands flew up to brace his skull upon them. There was a faint ringing in his ears. “Oh, I must have really hit my head, what a headache.”

Admiral Yularen chuckled. “Indeed you did. I’m sorry to say one of my men was not exercising caution when moving some crates, and I apologize most sincerely for the injuries you sustained while on board my ship.” 

Kallus turned to stare at Yularen with a horrified expression, jaw going slack. “What?”

“Your ship?” General Skywalker asked out of Kallus’s field of vision, as Kallus swatted away the Clone medic who was trying to apply some sort of liquid to his face, scrutinizing every moment of their interaction. “Admiral, isn’t this my ship?” 

_There’s no way. It isn’t possible!_

“Only if I’m dead, General,” Admiral Yularen said, rising to his feet and standing in front of Anakin Skywalker with a deep frown.

General Skywalker scoffed. “That’s not what I was told.”

“Oh, Anakin,” General Kenobi sighed dejectedly. “Don’t bother the good Admiral. We have matters to discuss that don’t require your sharp wit and experience with insults.”

General Skywalker laughed, placing an arm over General Kenobi's shoulders. “Sorry, Obi-Wan, I can’t help it.”

 _Oh, karabast._ Kallus swore, looking around him again to take in the lights and shapes of the Star Destroyer’s bridge just behind the Jedi, or the Clones’ faces, and the irritable look of Kix, the same medic from before as Kallus pushed off the frustrated Clone’s attentive hands once again. _There’s no way. This can’t be happening._

“Hold still, you kriffing squirming pain in my-” Kix looked up at the Generals and abruptly stopped when their gazes fell on him. “Sorry. Just stop moving and let me fix you up, or it’ll scar.”

“It’ll be fine.” Kallus snapped, shoving Kix a little too harshly. 

It turned into something of a childish game, with the two fully grown men shoving one another on the floor as Kix fought Kallus to let him tend to that pesky head wounds. “No, it won’t. Just hold still,”

“No, I have to go.” Kallus said, grimacing as he tried to push himself up off the floor with whatever meager balance he had left. “He’s here. I need to leave.”

“You need to not try and stand up so soon after a head injury, idiot.” Kix snapped, shoving his shoulder without any of the gentle demeanor from before. It made sense, he’d dealt with defiant soldiers and their injuries before, but Kallus wouldn't give up . “Let me treat your injury, and then you can go.”

Kallus shook his head as he rose to his wobbly feet. “No. I need to find him.” 

An exasperated Kix tried to follow. “Find who?” He asked, even while Kallus dodged his every attempt to apply the gauze to his bleeding head.

“Zeb.” Though it seemed simple to him, there was no kriffing way he was just going to let this medic keep him from finding Zeb, from escaping this doomed ship. Kallus had a second chance, and he was not going to muck this up. Not again, not when they could both still get out of there alive.

“Fine, you can do that in just a moment, if you’d just hold still,” Kix said sternly, taking hold of Kallus’s arm and twisting as he brought the ex-Imperial closer to him.

“NO!” Kallus’s fist collided with Kix’s face, and though the room was spinning, he was determined to win the fight to stay on his feet.

Kix shouted, one hand flying up to deal with his fervently bleeding nose. “Why you little piece of bantha- seriously?”

“I said don’t touch me!”

“I’m just trying to help, Kriff it, and you’ve got to go and do that?”

“I’ve got him,” One of the other clones said, and although usually it would’ve taken a number of men to hold Kallus down when he was this determined, the clone in fact did have him contained. The injection into his neck only confirmed as much.

“There, he’s sedated. I’d better add brain damage to my list of possible injuries. I have no idea what _that_ was about.” Kix sighed. “He’s a senator’s aide for crying out loud. I’ve never met any politician who can fight like that!”

“Is he going to be alright?” Garazeb Orrelios’s voice asked as Kallus’s consciousness faded. Zeb’s concern seemed genuine, so different from the last interaction they’d had, or at least how their last conversation had ended. 

Though Kallus was weak, and sedated to all hell, his mind pleaded with Kallus to say something, to call out to Zeb before it was too late. Kallus found he couldn’t so much as groan.

“He’ll be fine,” said Kix, but that was all Kallus heard before the world vanished into a thousand shades of darkness.

Kallus’s eyes fluttered closed, and he slumped to the floor again, unconscious.

When he woke up again, cuffed to the medical bay’s bed, with the Jedi Cruiser’s klaxon blaring, he groaned, and threw his head back, the crack of his skull softened by the less than comforting pillow underneath him. The medical bay door burst open, and the entire room went up in flames.

* * *

“Oh, my head.” Kallus groaned, sitting up from where he’d woken up again on the floor. “I must’ve really…” He trailed off and looked at the faces around him, each eager and filled with worry, though most were the same. 

“Hit your head?” Kix offered, but Kallus groaned, and let himself go limp, flinching when he hit his head on the durasteel floor and squeezed his eyes shut. 

_Yeah._ Kallus thought miserably. _That._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun... the time loop begins!!  
> More to come tomorrow :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ship birthday celebration continues! Hope you enjoy!!

Kallus exhaled a shaky breath. He could do this. He could get past Kix, and get out of the medbay and down the hall. It was simply a balancing act between not making enough sounds to alert the medic to his escape, and slipping out quickly enough Kix wouldn’t see him, or catch him in the hallway before he could slip out of sight. 

He’d almost done it two times before, but Kallus hadn’t made it quite around the corner before Kix had appeared from the medbay doors and seen him at the end of the hall, shouting for two Clones to: “Stop that man!” 

Being cuffed to the medical beds had thrown a bit of a wrench in Kallus’s plans. _Third time's the charm._ He thought wistfully. The door slid open, and Kallus slipped through it, not waiting for it to close before he bolted as fast as he could down the hall and to the left, just the same as the last three times. He rounded the corner and went to the left again, but kept running, turning over his shoulder to look at the hallway behind him. 

No one except the two Clones who’d tackled him the last two times. Kallus turned back around just in time to see a flash of orange and hear a startled shout before he hit the ground again. 

“Hey, what’s your problem?” The woman, no- girl he’d run into demanded, maroon colored gloves up against her head. 

This was not the woman he’d known briefly, the friend of the Spectres, the legendary Fulcrum before him. This was the Jedi Padawan she’d one been, frustrated and clearly not too happy with him colliding with her in the hallway. And rightfully so, though he could hardly do much more than gape. 

_Snippy, indeed_. Kallus mused, lifting an eyebrow. But no less clever or deliberate, he suspected, as she seemed to be as ready for a fight as ever

Her hand waved in his face and Kallus flinched. “Hello? Commander Tano to man barreling down the hall? What’s up with you?”

“My apologies, Commander. I was distracted.” A lame excuse, but the only one he could come up with.

“Well, I’ll say.” Ahsoka scowled. “Watch where you’re going next time.”

“I will.” Kallus nodded, pushing himself to his feet. 

Ahsoka seemed about ready to let him walk away until she wasn’t. “Wait,” one hand grasped his wrist as he moved away. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” Kallus frowned, reaching his free hand up to touch his face without searching for the injury. It had been often enough that he knew exactly where it was, how deep the cut ran, and how much it bled. “Oh, yes, I know.”

“You need to go to the medical bay,” Ahsoka said. “It’s not too far from here, it’ll take no time at all.”

Kallus pulled his wrist free “No, actually, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Ahsoka breathed in sharply through her teeth and reached out to thumb over a trickle of blood down his face. With her now red thumb in front of his eyes, she stared him down. “This doesn’t mean you’re fine. Come on, let’s head over there. Kix can patch you up really well.”

Trying to be polite wasn’t working, so he scoffed, and took several steps back from the Padawan. Only a fool would challenge her and stay within her reach. “No thank you, I really have someplace else to be.” Kallus was as stern as he could sound without becoming too unpleasant.

“Oh yeah?” Ahsoka scoffed. “Like where?”

“Just not there.”

The look Ahsoka Tano gave him said it all. He was back in binders in less than four minutes, with Ahsoka relaying Kix instructions to keep a special eye on Kallus. _He’s trouble. I can sense it._

No matter. It would all be over soon anyways. Kallus closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. The next time he slipped out of the medical bay, Kallus went to the right instead. 

* * *

When he sat up with a strangled gasp, Kallus leaned forward and pressed his face into his hands, wiping off the sweat on his skin. “Blast it,” he swore, running his fingers through his hair. The conversation continued as he ignored their words, too familiar with them for his own sanity’s wellbeing.

Looking up at Admiral Yularen’s kind smile, Kallus sighed.

“Are you alright down there?” Yularen asked.

Kallus shook his head. “Not really, but it’s complicated,” 

“Would you care to try and explain?”

 _No._ With a groan, Kallus leaned back down to the floor, letting Kix attend to him without complaint. 

Kix seemed happy enough, wondering aloud why his brothers couldn’t be as compliant as Kallus was, and Kallus might’ve snorted at the obliviousness that gripped everyone in his surroundings was in the least bit amusing anymore, much less shocking. 

Kallus was so mind-meltingly exhausted. So tired of failing, so tired of being blown up and shot in the back when he tried to access the reactor core, or the fuel reserves, or the hyperdrive. Really anything with explosive potential, Kallus has investigated. 

He’d also been shot, _again_ in the main hangar after checking the last of the ships for loose fuel or unsecured explosives. But there was nothing, still nothing. 

Kallus worried there was nothing to find, and really, how could he reasonably tear apart every inch of a star destroyer hoping to find the source of an explosion this crippling? He couldn’t even seem to figure out where it was originating from. 

With a sigh, he made his way back with Kix and left behind the bridge. 

Half curled up on the bed, a worn but sturdy blanket, he whimpered. 

_My name is Alexsandr Kallus._

_I am an academy student on a Republic diplomatic mission for an advanced politics credit, before I decided I wanted to pursue a career in the ISB._

_I am part of the Rebellion against the Empire._

_There is no Empire. There is no Rebellion. I have not been an academy student for years._

_I am trapped, reliving the same moment again and again, being blown to bits every hour, on the hour, in the past._

_I am alone._

_I miss my friend. I miss Zeb._

Regretting every time he’d ever snapped at the Lasat, “Leave me _alone_ , Garazeb,” Kallus sighed. 

His long hair from his academy days was falling in his eyes. _Ugh, how did I ever deal with this mangy mop?_

Kallus cut his hair during one loop, out of sheer annoyance at the constant brush of long blond locks in his face, not short enough to behave, and not long enough to tie back. Whatever possessed him to maintain such a ridiculous hairstyle was beyond Kallus, but he wanted to go back and strangle it.

When he was done, and the scissors had cut off half his hair, maybe more, into a raggedy, but at least more manageable mess of a blond head, he looked in a mirror. It was terrible. He looked terrible, and he’d nicked his ear, too, but it was preferable compared to the insane hairdo Kallus the Academy graduate had. 

It wasn’t meant to last, however, and when Kallus woke up again his hair was back to its same old obnoxious self in that perpetually repeating hour of misery. 

When the good-natured medic wasn’t paying attention, he slipped out of the medical bay again, made his way in the opposite direction of Ahsoka Tano (that was one fight he knew he would lose) and began to wander aimlessly. At first, Kallus didn’t know what he was looking for, but as his feet carried him through the halls, his mind wandered.

He’d stopped counting, or perhaps hadn’t cared to count to begin with. There had been a fair number of repetitions of the same hour, over and over again, enough that Kallus was sure it had been days since he’d last seen Zeb.

 _Zeb._ Oh how he missed his closest friend, his greatest companion in all his years. But the last time he’d looked into those green eyes, they carried nothing but contempt for him, or worse yet, fear. 

It was only natural, after all, one could only rave about the perfectly secure Star Destroyer exploding into a billion pieces for so long and not be seen as an absolute madman. Still, it was lonely.

The shout of an all too familiar war-cry caught his ear, and he beamed, looking up at the bulkhead marking to see where exactly in the ship he was, so he could find it quicker next time. 

And yes, Kallus truly was alone in this, he knew. But that didn’t mean he had to feel that way.

“Impressive,” Kallus said, striding into the open room with a grin. “You turned your temporary quarters into a training facility,”

Zeb snorted. “Can’t let myself get out of shape. I’ve got to practice, keep my strength up.”

“Indeed. It’s quite intriguing, really.” 

“Really?” Zeb asked uneasily. 

_Karabast, that was too much._ “Of course,” Kallus said, losing the rigidity in his posture and flashing a genuine smile. He slipped off his boots before stepping on the training mats, a force of habit after training for so long with Zeb before all of whatever this was.

“Your shoes?”

Kallus looked between the tilting boots up against the wall by the door and Zeb, unease resurfacing. “It’s tradition? Isn’t it?” _Oh I’m a fool to assume I can just waltz in here and earn his trust._

“Yeah, it is,” Zeb said, shaking off whatever trance he was in. “I’ve never met anyone not from Lasan, much less Coruscant, who knew that.”

“I know quite a number of things you might not suspect about Lasat culture,” Kallus quipped. 

Zeb grinned, crossing his arms as he watched Kallus with vague interest. “I’m impressed. I never would’ve suspected as much from you, or any of the Republic’s ambassadors.” 

Kallus laughed. “It’s just me that knows. And I’m just a lowly Academy graduate, so don’t hold your breath for the others to pick up on much.”

“Well, that’s too bad.” Despite his words, Zeb didn’t seem fairly disappointed. “You’re Kallus right? The temporary attaché?”

“Yes,” Kallus grinned, giddiness spreading into even the furthest reaches of his toes and fingertips. _He knows my name._

“I haven’t seen you around much today.” Zeb said casually. I heard there was an incident on the bridge, and that’s why the negotiations were delayed, again.”

“Ah.” Kallus flinched. “Yes, it seemed quite unavoidable, I apologize. I know being away from your people for long can be frustrating.”

“Nah, it’s not your fault. You didn’t ask to get knocked over the head. Gave me some extra time to practice with this beauty,” Zeb said proudly, holding out the bo-rifle as if Kallus needed any explanation as to what it was. 

“Do you mind if I see it?” Kallus asked. “It’s certainly no ordinary weapon.”

“I mean, I don’t-? It’s my bo-rifle, ya know?” Zeb sighed, flinching. “No, you don’t know. How could you?” He rolled his eyes and and shook his head at himself with a loud sigh. “That’s not something they teach in a cultural class at an academy.

“I do know,” Kallus said firmly, hand outstretched, his black-gloved palm facing the ceiling. “This isn’t the _Boosahn Keeraw_. Relax. You’ll get it back.”

Zeb was astounded, but placed the weapon in Kallus’s hand nonetheless. “How do you know what the _Boosahn Keeraw_ is?”

Remembering the night in the snow with an imperceptible Kallus opted for a simple half-truth. “Met a guardsman. He told me.” A better answer than: _I removed one from the corpse of one of your brothers in arms several years from now._

After a few minutes of Zeb watching as Kallus demonstrated a series of flourishes and complex movements, Zeb wondered at Kallus’s familiarity with the exercises he seemed to need no direction in. It was almost like he’d used Zeb’s bo-rifle before.

“Did you train with the guardsman you met?” Zeb asked, a bemused smile on his face, not quite disbelief. The faintest hint of wonder in Zeb’s eyes sent whatever painful memory Kallus had of their last encounter fleeing his mind.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“It sure seems like it.” Zeb scratched the back of his neck. “Who was it? I feel like I know their style. Just can’t put my finger on it. 

Kallus snorted. “Why don’t you guess?” He asked, the staff twisting behind his back and across his shoulders once more. “You’re bound to get it right eventually.”

“I don’t know about that. I haven’t met every guardsman, you know,” Zeb said with a helpless shrug. “I can try if you want to make a game of it.”

Kallus, startled out of continuing one of the sweeping motions he’d been doing with Zeb’s bo-rifle and looked at Zeb incredulously. “But you’re a captain!”

“And I do my best, but there’s not exactly a small number of guardsmen.”

“I know.” Kallus said without thinking.

Zeb frowned. “How do you know that?”

It wasn’t as if Kallus could cite his past, nor would he want to. 

“He told me.”

Zeb’s face contorted, and Kallus realized he’d slipped. “He told you I didn’t know the name of every guardsman?”

“I-you know it doesn’t really matter.” Kallus winced. Of course, he’d screwed this up again. It wasn’t exactly like he hadn’t done it before. 

The comfort brought by the familiarity of Zeb’s bo-rifle, still the same as ever, was gone. Instead the weight of the weapon was burdensome, and painful. Kallus forced the weapon back into Zeb’s hands. 

It was almost time, but Kallus couldn’t stand to look into those confused, torn eyes one moment more. He had to get out. “Never mind. I should go. Another time?” 

There would never be another time, only _that_ time, over and over, but when Kallus walked through the door, he turned away from Zeb, whose ears twitched as if he heard some far off sound imperceptible to human ears. 

“Wait!” Zeb cried, but Kallus didn’t listen. He kept going. 

Kallus was already running down the hallway when the ship rocked, shuddering at the force of the explosion, and Kallus stumbled into a wall. When he closed his eyes, Kallus almost didn’t feel the ripple of fire through his skin, even after the cool durasteel under his skin replaced it.

* * *

With the new incentive to escape the medical bay and Kix’s care even faster, Kallus learned he could easily sedate and escape Kix by swiping a syringe off a tray as they walked through the door. It earned him a few more minutes with Zeb. 

Kallus gladly took every single one of them. 

Sometimes, they would have echoes of the same conversation, and Kallus would learn all kinds of things about Zeb. His hopes, his dreams, things about his family and friends. They laughed and shared together only a few less than perfect moments, which were quickly replaced by more boisterous laughter from Zeb when Kallus played off a slip as a joke. 

He was getting good at learning to lie to Zeb, to start fresh every time he walked through the door and tucked his boots off to the side. It turned out Zeb _liked_ Kallus’s longer hair, once Kallus commented he thought about shaving it off out of frustration.

No matter how many questions Kallus asked Zeb, and how desperately he tried to keep the focus on Zeb and off of himself, it only made sense that every so often, Zeb would ask _him_ a question, and Kallus would be forced to answer. He tried to keep his responses short, but sometimes Zeb managed to weasel out a little more than Kallus intended on sharing. 

It wasn’t until Zeb asked for the third time if Kallus knew what he wanted to do as an Academy graduate that Kallus froze. 

Kallus knew exactly what the answer to that question was, and always would be, no matter how desperately he wanted to change it. _The ISB, once the Republic falls. I join the academy, I excel, I step on the throats of others and I tear through your world._

He was so caught up in thought however, Kallus stopped paying attention to their sparring session and was smacked across the face by one of the wooden rods they’d been practicing with.

Kallus shouted and hit the ground, even though he braced himself with his hands and arms against the mats before the rest of him collided with the floor.

“Karabast, Kal,” Zeb flinched, dropping the practice rods and diving down onto his hands and knees besides Kallus. “Are you okay?”

“What am I doing?” He groaned in frustration.

“You’re bleedin’!” Zeb said, reaching out to brush his hand against Kallus’s re-opened head wound. 

It stung, but Kallus did his best not to look away from Zeb’s face. Zeb’s big green eyes screamed apologetic, and those ears folded over to the sides with a miserable crumple. “What am I supposed to do, Zeb!”

Zeb was nervous, and although it made sense, Kallus couldn’t be bothered to care. It wouldn’t matter when they started from scratch again. “Karabast, I just assaulted one of the kriffing Republic’s emissaries. I don’t think you’re the problem here.”

“No, Zeb- don’t worry about it,” Kallus grunted, pushing himself off the mats to offer a smile and grasp the large hand that had been on his face once they were both standing.

“You’re injured, again!” Zeb said, ripping off a part of Kallus’s shirt to press it up against the split in his forehead. “How are you not more concerned about me cracking open your kriffing skull?”

“Because you’re not the issue in this room.” Kallus eyes sparkled, the newfound hope blossoming the more he thought about how he might fare better stopping the _Resolute II_ from splintering into thousands of pieces with Zeb at his side. “I am. I’m not accomplishing anything by myself. It doesn’t matter what I do or who I talk to. It doesn't matter. It never does. But I have to try. I have to make them listen, or I will never win.”

“You’re talking nonsense, Kallus.” Zeb said, “ You need help.”

“You’re right. You’ll help me. I just have to find you, and you’ll help me!”

The ship rocked under their feet, and Zeb looked up at him in confusion. “Kal, what’re you talking about?”

Kallus shook his head furiously. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll fix it. I’ll save you. I promise.”

Zeb didn’t understand, but how could he? “Kallus?” He asked uneasily, ears twitching towards the door. “What’re you saying? I don’t understand.” 

Kallus never answered. One moment he was gripping Zeb’s arms and likely pulling on that fine layer of fur, and the next, he was laying on a durasteel floor, with a smile on his face for the very first time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fic to come! Thank you all for the immensely positive response to this work, it’s beyond anything we expected and wonderful beyond what either of us could’ve imagined. You’re all amazing and very much appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! This was all supposed to be a part of chapter three and then chapter three got really long, so we cut it in half and posted and then chapter four got really long so we just waited until it was done to post again, lol. Happy belated birthday, Ship, I hope you've been having the best one!!
> 
> Enjoy!

Kallus was getting discouraged again. 

After being sedated by Kix (yes, again), forcibly restrained by one Commander Tano, and then knocked out cold on the mats of the Lasat’s temporary training room, he’d been met with failure after failure to reach Zeb, to get through to him, much less warn him and prevent the ship from exploding.

Being looked at with hatred in Garazeb Orrelios’s eyes was one of Kallus’s most profound nightmares. Kallus continued to dread the day the green in his best friend’s eyes would carry as much contempt for Kallus as the day they first met, up until their reunion aboard the Ghost after the Battle of Atollon. 

He was wrong. The absolute horror in his eyes, the downright fear was more terrible than any other thing Kallus could have imagined in those spheres of green.

 _Battle_ , He might’ve scoffed if not for being so defeated. _As if the horrific massacre and the Rebels being driven from their safe haven could be called such a thing._

In the brig of the Republic Star Destroyer, separated from any other living being by a thin red veil at the top of a few stairs, Kallus waited.

Zeb was there, deep in conversation, with the Jedi, and Kix, _and_ Admiral Yularen. His eyes kept flicking over to Kallus, a nervousness in them that gnawed at Kallus’s sanity. 

Two days of trying to save them. Two more days of failure in the kriffing loop. _I don’t know how much more of this I can take._

He didn’t have a chrono, it’d been confiscated, but Kallus was sure that this repetition would end in failure, too. They didn’t seem to be steering off their usual course. The same words were on their lips: Dangerous, unstable, liar, separatist plot, sabotage, threat.

“Karabast!” Frustrated, he shouted and stood from where he was seated and marched up to the shield between him. Kallus lifted both hands, cuffed together as they were, curled up into fists and hit the ray shield as hard as he could. 

Zeb _flinched_ and took a step back. 

“I’m trying to save you!” Kallus shouted, not caring that his hair was in his eyes or that he was bleeding, or that his lip was split from the rough treatment of the Clone troopers, because he looked about as deranged as a beaten, half-insane grown man in the body of a child could possibly appear. 

His credibility had gone entirely out the transparisteel windows.

“Listen to me!”

The ship rocked and in that moment, even though Kallus knew what was going to happen, even though it was futile, when the ray shield flickered out, Kallus slipped through. He cried out through his tears of desperation and lunged for Zeb. 

Kallus crumpled to the floor and was on his knees, looking up at the Lasat through the streaks of liquid in his eyes. Fingers snatched the pant leg closest to him and Kallus sobbed. 

“Zeb you have to help me.”

The Lasat pushed him off and backed away, leaving him to the mercy of the Jedi.

“Please,” Kallus shouted, even as the two Clone troopers on either side pushed him back into the cell, and down the stars kicking and screaming. “You have to listen to me! Zeb!”

The sickening crunch his arm made when he hit the floor a little too hard went hand in hand with a wail. Kallus wasn’t sure whether it was because of the horrible snapping of his forearm into two pieces, or the agony that had taken up residence in his heart, but there was reason enough for both.

* * *

When he woke up on the bridge of the _Resolute II_ , Kallus didn’t have the energy, or enough duct tape to piece his fragmented mind back together to try again. So he decided to do the only thing that had brought him even the slightest sliver of joy in the miserable hours that all blended together.

Kallus felt guilty, as if somehow he were betraying Zeb’s trust. But Kallus knew if he tried to keep going, he wouldn’t make it. He desperately needed a respite, a chance to stand with Zeb without the horror or fear or pity in the Lasat’s eyes every time Kallus tried to get through to him. 

Yes, technically Kallus wasn’t sharing the whole truth, and yes, he was being dishonest. But if for no other reason than to be at Zeb’s side again, for an hour, Kallus could pretend. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

“You’re really good with that bo-rifle. You fight like a Lasat,”

Kallus snorted, and cast a sad smile over his shoulder back at Zeb. “I happened to be lucky that way, I suppose.”

Zeb barked a laugh. “You might even put some of my guardsmen to shame given the opportunity.”

Kallus flinched, he didn’t even bother to hide it. _But I was given the opportunity._ The memories resurfaced and Kallus grimaced, stopping to look down at the bo-rifle in his hands. It was the same as it was every time, and how could it possibly change?

Still, for the briefest of seconds, Kallus was back on Lasan, and his gloved hands clutched the bo-rifle of the guardsman at his feet, now _his_ bo-rifle. Kallus shook his head and the traces of that gut-wrenching past back into the recesses of his mind as Kallus looked back up at Zeb.

_While you don’t fully understand how true your words are, I can’t help but wonder if deep down, some part of you does._

“You’ve been at this for a while,” Zeb remarked, a playful glint in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re even human? The pace you’ve been going at is real tough to keep up,”

“At this point?” Kallus sighed dejectedly. “I’m not really sure of anything.”

“What’s the matter?”

The words didn’t come easily, and Kallus feared they wouldn’t come at all. There was nothing there, no words left for him to use.

_I am selfish. You are being so extraordinarily kind to me, and you don’t even know me. But I want more. I don’t want the same hour, again and again. I want the rest of our lives to fight together, to stand side by side and to look out into the galaxy against the Empire._

But none of those words would do. 

Kallus looked up from where he was staring at Zeb’s bo-rifle in his grasp. “You were right. I did train with a Lasat Guardsman.”

“You did?” Zeb asked. 

“He was a wonderful friend of mine. A truly kind, compassionate being.” Kallus took the staff with one last twirl and considered offering back out to Zeb. He didn’t. “I know I will miss him dearly.”

Not judgement, but curiously appeared in Zeb’s eyes. “What happened to him?”

“War.” Kallus said simply. “We fought side by side for so long, when he suggested we split up, I didn’t think twice about it.” _I so desperately wish I had._

“And you lost him.” Zeb said. 

Kallus didn’t think Zeb needed any more confirmation than he had, so he changed topics “Did you know he was loved?” Not his smoothest transition but it would have to do. 

As always, Zeb caught on fairly quickly. “The guardsman?”

“Yes. The guardsman was so, so loved. He had a family, but not in the traditional sense. You know those collectors? The ones who piece together broken things to make something even more beautiful?” Kallus asked.

“Yeah there’s this Lasat tradition,” Zeb explained. “Where if you have broken pots or glass, you bring the pieces to the market, and they all come together again to form something new. It’s called _jizam shamsa_ , and is the strongest symbol of gift and community there is.”

That was something Kallus hadn’t known, but his heart warmed to think of the Spectres in such a way.

“His family was like that.” Kallus said, with a smile, remembering fondly the few days he spent alongside the Spectres as opposed to across the battlefield from them. “Everyone was a little different, a little broken around the edges. But the life they forged together was unlike any other, like the Lasat tradition.”

Zeb’s gentle smile was so different from what Kallus was used to, and yet, so familiar. “It sounds nice.”

“It was. He had this friend, too. Not quite family, but brothers in arms, even though he wasn’t from Lasan.” Kallus snorted. “I couldn’t believe it at first. They were so different, so at odds when they first met, it seemed impossible for them to be on the same planet without trying to kill each other.”

“What changed?”

“They forged a bond together. It just sort of… happened. I never really understood it. But one day, they realized they weren’t so different, and from there, they took a step forward.” It was as simple an explanation as Kallus could give Zeb, especially without understanding it himself. “Then, two. After a while, it seemed they would walk the same path together for quite some time.”

Kallus laughed whimsically. 

“That sounds nice. He sounds like a real great guy,”

Kallus nodded slowly. “He was.” 

“Was there anyone in his life, do you know? Or were you not that close?”

With a gentle shake of his head, a couple loose strands of hair fell into his face. “No, I knew a little. Enough to tell you that there was almost someone.”

“What do you mean?” Zeb asked. The thick veils Kallus shrouded over the truth with were too layered for even Zeb to sift through them. It was intentional on Kallus’s part, but perhaps the hidden truths Kallus had grown used to were not his ally in that moment.

“I mean, his best friend?” _Me. With me._ “There was something more than that

“Oh, really?” Zeb perked up, wide eyes searching Kallus’s ever changing expression Kallus wrestled to find the right words.

“It was fairly one sided, however. The guardsman, he never acted on it. Never noticed it, but how could he? No one ever told him. It didn’t make sense for them to be friends, how could anyone have ever expected them to be lovers?”

Zeb winced. “Did he-?

“Did he ever know?” Kallus asked.

Zeb nodded. 

“No.” With a sigh, he twisted the bo-rifle out from behind his back and looked at Zeb with tired eyes. “He died before he found out. Before I could tell him.”

“Oh, Kallus,” Zeb said, realizing exactly what Kallus had decidedly not been saying for their entire conversation.

He turned away, and sighed, offering the bo-rifle back to Zeb as he wrestled with the not-quite confession that had poured from his lips. “It’s fine.” 

Zeb took the weapon from his hands, slowly, as if he were waiting for Kallus to change his mind. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” And as honest and genuine as the apology was, Kallus’s exhaustion and downright inescapable frustration ate away at him. 

“It’s alright.” Kallus lied. 

Zeb could see right through him, at least that much would never change. “Is it?”

With a deep sigh, his shoulders fell forwards and he mustered a sad smile. “Not really. But you won’t remember.”

“What do you mean?” Zeb asked, ears twitching as they always did right before the Cruiser went up in flames. It broke Kallus’s heart to think Zeb knew for even the briefest of moments what was about to happen. Every single time, without fail, his ears _twitched_. “Kallus, what’s happening?”

“What always happens.” Kallus said somberly, pulling off his glove and reaching his hand out to hold the side of Zeb’s face, without any barriers to keep them from one another. “I wish I’d been brave enough to tell you while I still had the chance. And then I lose you.”

“Kal, no!” Zeb cried, but it was too late. 

The Jedi Cruiser went up in a brilliant stroke of colorful fire, and the furthest reaches of the system were dusted by faint swirls of dusted pastel hues.

* * *

Kallus’s eyes flew open, and he sat up, looking at Kix, the startled but well-meaning Clone medic.

“Well?” He snapped, “Get on with it. I have things to do. Let’s head to the kriffing medical bay.”

Kix flinched. “I’m just trying to-”

“Help?” Kallus rolled his eyes. “Don’t beat around the bush. I’m not a child. Fix the blasted head lac, and then we can be done with this. I don’t care if it scars.”

Kix scowled. “Fine, you puffer-pig-headed idiot. I don’t want to have to deal with you longer than I have to.”

This time, when they reached the medical bay, Kallus scooped up a sedative as they walked in the door and jammed it into Kix’s neck. He slipped out of the door before it closed, and didn’t wait for Kix to crumple to the ground before he scooped up the Clone’s blaster. In less than ten seconds, he was heading down the hallways and towards Zeb. _For the last time_ , he swore to himself and whatever Force was listening.

As soon as he reached the door to Zeb’s quarters, he smiled. They _smelled_ like the Lasat and felt as warm and homely as Zeb’s bunk on the Ghost. He didn’t know how that was possible, and didn’t need to know. All he needed was to walk through the doorway and look at Zeb, one last time.

One last time to give him the courage he needed to do what it took, to end the loop. To free himself and everyone else on the ship. To free Zeb from this unrelenting prison.

Zeb wasn’t looking at him. His back was to the door, but one of his ears twitched back as he heard the footsteps outside his quarters. “Come on in,” Zeb said. Kallus could see the bo-rifle against the far wall and Zeb fiddling with the too-small datapad in his hands.

Kallus did. His hands were shaking, he realized, and he wiped the layer of sweat growing on them as best he could on his pantlegs. “I’m really sorry about all this.”

Zeb looked up, and turned over his shoulder at the click of a blaster’s safety release. His eyes widened, and Zeb looked between Kallus, who was holding the blaster and out of reach, and his bo-rifle, that was too far across the room for him to reach. 

“Hey,” he said gently. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m ending it. I’m ending all of it. Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay. Whatever it is,” Zeb set the datapad on the table. “We can talk about this. I promise. It doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

“It’s too late for that. I can’t stop it. I can’t fix it. I have to do this.”

“You’re bleeding. Let’s take you to the medical bay and get you checked out. Put down the blaster.” 

There was recognition in Zeb’s eyes. Kallus couldn’t imagine it, not as real and raw as it was in front of him. Kallus trembled, his own vulnerability sweeping his resolve’s legs out from underneath it. 

It wasn’t the recognition he craved, the recognition he was desperate for. How could it be? This wasn’t and would never be his Zeb. No, it wasn’t what he wanted more than anything in the galaxy, but this simple familiarity, the knowing in Zeb’s eyes was enough.

Kallus cracked.

“No. You don’t understand, I don’t have any other choice. I don’t. I couldn’t. How could I? I’ve tried _everything,_ Zeb. And every time, _every time_ , without fail, you die. Everyone dies. I can’t escape it. It’s the only thing I haven’t tried.”

“I’m not gonna die, and neither are you. Let’s get you some help. _Please_ , let me help you.”

“You can’t help me. You never could!”

“This time will be different. _Please_ , please put the blaster down.”

“ _No_.” Kallus said. “Get away from me.”

“I’m not gonna do that. I’m not gonna leave you here all alone.”

“I can’t do this with you looking at me like that.”

“Then don’t,”

“What else am I going to do?”

“Just try,” Zeb said. “Try and _live_.”

Kallus didn’t respond, and his rattled brain struggled to come to terms with the potential for survival, much less the kindness of Zeb, even to a stranger.

“I don’t know how, Zeb,”

“Let me show you,”

“But you can’t!”

“I can,” Zeb said. 

He didn’t give Kallus a moment to consider the words, or to make a decision. Zeb made it for him.

Zeb sprung across the room and knocked Kallus’s feet out from underneath him. Kallus stumbled and toppled to the ground, grip loosened on Kix’s commandeered blaster. Without so much as a thought, Zeb pulled the blaster from Kallus’s fingers and set it out of reach as he caught Kallus with steady hands.

As soon as they were on the mats, with Zeb wrapping himself quite firmly around Kallus, tears sprung up behind the streaks of blond hair in his eyes. Kallus shuddered in Zeb’s arms and knew, just _knew_ he was too much 

“It’s okay. It’s alright,” Zeb said, running those massive hands up and down Kallus’s back as he broke down into tears in Zeb’s arms.

The touches, no matter how big or small, had woven themselves into Kallus’s relationship with Zeb. At first, even the faintest of brushes against his skin sent Kallus’s spine as flat as a board and then he’d slowly gotten used to all the miniscule touches, before he gladly began returning those enormous hugs and joining in on jovial rough-housing.

Kallus had been starved for the feel of Zeb’s touch, and it had taken that in no way small hug for him to realize it. 

It seems as soon as the barriers broke down, so did his self restraint, a careful balance that had been teetering towards being out of control. Kallus was letting himself cry in Zeb’s arms and he couldn’t bring himself to kriffing care. Why would he bother?

“Is everything okay in here?” Came the voice of Ahsoka Tano, but Kallus couldn’t bring himself to care if she was poking her nose where it didn’t belong. Fulcrum mentor or not, Kallus didn’t kriffing care if she tried to pry a crowbar between him and Zeb. He had no plans on letting go any time soon. 

“We just need a minute,” Zeb said gently. “But don’t go just yet. I think we’re going to need your help.”

* * *

When the klaxon sounded in the halls this time, Kallus flinched, but it was hard not to after hearing the same noise every time the Jedi Cruiser went up in flames. 

Zeb somehow convinced the Jedi and the Admiral to search for the source of the explosion. With thousands of able bodied soldiers searching, and the force-sensitivity of the Jedi, it was only a matter of time before they discovered it. Or so it seemed.

“There’s nothing,” General Skywalker said, shaking his head and giving Kallus a skeptical look. Wrapped in a shock blanket, Kallus sat on a crate behind Zeb, but he looked up from the floor and met Skywalker’s gaze from behind Garazeb. “We can’t find anything that can cause the kind of damage he says there will be. How sure are you that there’s something to find?”

Zeb took a step to the side to block the miserable-looking Kallus from General Skywalker’s view. Zeb towered even over the Jedi Knight, and Skywalker couldn’t help but look up at him. 

General Kenobi stood between them, and sighed. “As much as I hate to say it, the likelihood of this threat being credible is higher than any of us would care to admit. Lasan may be neutral in this war, but that means little to the Separatists.”

“But how are they going to blow up an entire cruiser without us knowing about it?” Skywalker snapped.

In a low voice, Zeb said as quietly as he could muster: “He was about to put a blaster bolt through his brains because he was so sure it was the only way to get our attention.”

Kenobi put a hand on Skywalker’s shoulder. “If nothing else, we are exercising caution. He was an accomplished, outstanding academy student and every record indicates he is trustworthy.”

“Except for the part where he was going to shoot himself,” he said none-too-quietly. 

“Anakin-”

“Don’t lecture me, Obi-Wan.” Skywalker, “We have the entire crew tearing this ship apart based on the word of a half-delusional pretentious rich Academy graduate, who’s never seen an explosion one day in his life.”

The comm-link on Skywalker’s arm blinked, the small electronic chirping gaining all three men’s attention. “General Skywalker.”

Skywalker glared at Kallus and turned to focus wholly on the incoming transmission. “Yes, what is it?”

“The transport scheduled to dock in the lower hangar is requesting permission to approach,” The Clone said. “Do we allow it?”

“Yes, but tell them to be prepared to leave at any moment. We’re still on high alert. Keep an eye out for anything that looks out of place.” Skywalker said.

“Yes General, I’ll tell them right away.” The transmission ended.

Kenobi directed a stern look at the other Jedi. “Anakin.”

“See, I can be reasonable, Obi-Wan,” Skywalker said, rolling his eyes. 

“According to Kallus, we’re running out of time.” Kenobi said. “He said the ship would explode ten minutes from now,”

“That’s right,” Zeb said, 

“Alright. Obi-Wan and I will go head off the search. You just try and keep our _guest_ here from doing anything else stupid.” The gesture Skywalker made in Kallus’s general direction would’ve been considered less than amenable.

“You got it,” Zeb said, nodding as he walked the two Jedi to the door. “Thank you. For believing him.”

“I’m not sure that I do,” Obi-Wan said. “But if we don’t place our trust in our allies, how are we any better than our enemies?” 

Zeb nodded, and turned back to look at where Kallus had been sitting silently during the entire conversation.

Instead, he was startled to see Kallus standing mere inches from him, staring at Zeb with a glint in his eyes, the blanket falling from his shoulders to the floor. 

“Karabast, Kallus, what’re you doing?” Zeb bent down to pluck the blanket from the floor and wrap it around Kallus’s shoulders again. “You can’t sneak up on people like that!”

One hand feebly clutched half the blanket draped over his shoulders, but Kallus shook his head. “The ship? It’s been scheduled to dock all this time?”

“Yeah, it has. It’s uh, supplies I think.” Zeb frowned, ears twitching. “Why? Do you think there’s something aboard that ship?”

“I don’t know.” Kallus shook his head. “I didn’t even know it was scheduled to arrive. But if it has been, and that’s the cause of the explosion, then that would explain so much.”

“Well, we should tell the Jedi,”

“Tell the Jedi what?” Ahsoka Tano asked, reappearing for the first time since the alarm had sounded. “Where are Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi?”

Zeb shook his head. “Not here, but we think we have a lead. What’s on the incoming ship?”

“Supplies, I guess?” Ahsoka shrugged, trying to rattle off a few possibilities. “Rations, ammunition, weapons, parts for fighter repairs, fuel cells, new troops, medical supplies,”

“Wait, wait, back up.” Kallus’s eyes widened. “Did you say _fuel_ cells?”

“Yeah, fuel cells. We go through a ton of it with our fighters, and it’s always better to have some on hand than it is to be out.”

“ _Fuel cells_. Of course!” Kallus said, and stepped forward into the hallway, looking both ways. “We have to get to the lower hangar, there must be a reason the docking of that ship coincides with the explosion, and it’s the fuel cells!”

“You’re not in any condition to be tearing apart a supply ship,” Ahsoka said, crossing her arms as she moved in front of Kallus with a concerned, however stern, look. “I can’t just let you run down there and go through our supplies,”

“You could waste precious time wrestling me to the floor and into binders, or you could take me to the ship. Either way, you’re going down there, and as much as we both know you’re capable of taking me down, I will most certainly put up a fight.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m keeping an eye on you. You’re trouble.”

“You can sense it?” Kallus asked wryly.

She snorted. “Yeah, something like that,”

It took almost no time to reach the lower hangar, but as soon as they had, Kallus’s eyes tore through the layers of crew and supplies to find what they were looking for. Both Ahsoka and Zeb were occupied speaking to the officers, getting and inventory. 

Kallus knew they didn’t have time for that, and proceeded to slip through the chaos and down the hall. 

_Fuel cells, fuel cells. Where are the kriffing the fuel cells?_ He let out a frustrated sound and stepped onto the ship, through the blast doors and out from the dark grey durasteel halls into the white, almost painfully bright passageways of the ship. Kallus shuffled to the left, clutching the blanket over his shoulders and not caring for the stares directed his way from underneath those helmets. 

It wouldn’t likely matter. 

He continued his trek deeper into the ship, hearing the metal groan as it settled after the long journey the ship had made into the outer rim. Kallus struggles not to be pulled back into the dozens of other times durasteel had groaned much the same way under the strain of fire and flame. _I still have time before that happens._

He was close, so kriffing close to finding the source, to ending his pain and his suffering. It was then the blinking light caught his attention. 

The transport’s fuel systems were compromised. 

_I knew it._

Kallus fiddled with the controls and the transparisteel door between him and the fuel chamber, and slipped through the moment the door opened, leaving the blanket over his shoulders tumbling to the floor in the hall. His hand reached back to lock the door; Kallus realized immediately something was wrong.

The room was unbearably hot, in a way only unstable reactor cores or fighters that had just landed on the hot stone expanse surrounding the temples of Yavin could be. 

But the heat wasn’t coming from the reactor. 

Kallus looked over to see at least three barrels of fuel, all compromised, all with warnings flashing on their consoles. All of them were extremely volatile and clearly not properly processed Rhydonium. 

He set to work immediately, scrambling for any sort of cool down sequence, but the further the chrono in Kallus’s view clicked towards the end of the hour, the greater the pressure grew. Kallus worked exceedingly well under pressure, and his steady hands were something of a legend in the Rebellion. After days of unrelenting pain, never ending death, and the agonizing loss in his heart, however, Kallus fumbled here and there, even after Kallus pulled his gloves off and he tinkered with the barrels, one by one.

With two set for cool down and just the third remaining, Kallus allowed himself to hope, to breathe in the potential for a different ending, and ending in which he and Zeb _survived,_ and then Kallus could focus on changing the galaxy before the Empire took over, before Lasan suffered, and even before he met and fell in love with Zeb.

But to do any of that Kallus had to live first.

“Ow!” He shouted, withdrawing his hand from the third and final panel as soon as it shocked him. 

“Kallus!” Came Zeb’s voice over what sounded like a comm-system.

He looked up and around, and then back at the door he’d come in from. Through the transparisteel was Zeb, standing there with his massive hands up against the door and wide eyes. 

“Zeb?” Kallus asked, but when Zeb shook his head, Kallus realized Zeb couldn’t hear him. He saw the comm-system control on the control panel in front of him by the door, and Kallus stumbled over towards it, sweating profusely.

Zeb was holding the blanket Kallus had abandoned just outside, and he looked genuinely panicked. “What’re you doing inside there? It’s not safe in there.”

“The fuel cells,” Kallus realized he was out of breath in the heated room. His hands matched Zeb’s and Kallus shook his head. “They’re compromised.”

“Then you definitely shouldn’t be in there, you idiot! Let someone qualified to handle this take care of it.”

“Do you see anyone else here?” Kallus gestured for Zeb to search, but he was right. There was no one to help him.

Zeb shook his head and bared his teeth. “Get _out_ of there, now.”

“No.” Kallus had gotten good at saying as much to Zeb over the last few days. It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

“I will drag Commander Tano here and have her cut you out. I’m not kidding.” Zeb snarled. It would’ve been mildly threatening if not for the fact that Kallus knew Zeb well enough at any point in time to see the fear laced in his whole demeanor.

“ _No,”_ Kallus insisted.

“Kallus, don’t be stupid, you can’t get that last fuel cell stabilized, just look at you!” 

Zeb, however, was right. Kallus shook his head slowly. “It was never going to be stabilized to begin with, we have to jettison it and all contents of the reactor. It’s a failsafe built into the ship.”

“That means clearing out that whole room. Kallus, you’re in that kriffing room.” The pitch of Zeb’s voice rose, letting in on the actual concern bleeding through his tough exterior.

“Do you have a better idea?” Kallus asked, “Because I would love to hear it.”

“Wait for help.” 

“I can’t,” Kallus said, and it was true. “I have to stop this. I can’t go through this one more time. Not ever again, Zeb. I just can’t do it.”

Zeb’s ears fell and though his anger was not gone, the actual despair Zeb found himself grappling with was written across every possible surface, practically carved into Zeb’s skin for Kallus to see. “Don’t be a kriffing hero, get out of there.” 

“No, Zeb.”

“Karabast, don’t make me come in there and get you myself.” Zeb’s threat was as potent as the hint of his thicker accent bleeding through. It only did that when he was truly upset, as Kallus had learned, and while this younger Zeb had less experience diluting it than he would twenty years from then, it was a characteristic they both clearly shared.

“I’d like to see you try.” Kallus’s eyes flicked to the chrono, and felt the heat creep upwards at a much faster pace than before.

“Don’t be stupid.” Zeb pleaded, as if Zeb could see the shift in Kallus before even he could. “Kal, get out of there.”

“Kal?” He echoed, with a smile and a laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Unable to help the half strangled chuckle, Zeb shook his head. “Kal, get out. Please get out of there.”

“You know I can’t.” Kallus said. “ Did I ever tell you about the guardsman I met?”

“What?” Zeb asked. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“He had a life so full of suffering, I don’t know that he ever truly left his pain behind, but he pushed onwards. He found a family, one he said was much like your broken pottery tradition, where each piece came from a different corner of the galaxy and the life they forged together.”

“J _izam shamsa_ ,” Zeb said. 

“Yes, exactly.”

“His best friend was once a bitter enemy until the day they realized they weren’t so different from one another.” Kallus shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, nervously as the words came spilling out again. “From where they stood together, they took a step forward. Then, two. After enough time passed it seemed only natural they would continue walking the same path together for quite some time.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Zeb asked, desperation wringing out of his voice. “Kal, I don’t understand.”

“This guardsman is loved. By his people, by his family, by his best friend, who swore him more than brotherhood.” Kallus took in as deep a breath he could to summon every fragment of his courage. “By me.”

Zeb was nervous, but not in the way that he’d been before, when Kallus’s ranting and raving drove Zeb off before he would listen to Kallus’s warnings. There was fear in Zeb’s eyes, but not of Kallus. Fear of something else. Of loss. “Kal, you’re not making any sense.”

“I don’t have to.” Kallus shook his head, even at the tension that would not leave Zeb behind and laid a claim to the muscles in Zeb’s shoulders and his jaw. “I just had to tell you, before I ended this.”

“No, don’t you dare even think about it, you hear me?” Zeb asked, turning his head for the briefest of moments to look down the hall. “Don’t you dare do anything stupid, no matter how much of an idiot you’re determined to prove you are.”

When he looked back at Kallus, Zeb’s whole body language screamed relief. “Commander Tano’s here, we’re going to get you out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Kal, don’t-”

His face split into a brilliant grin, brown eyes sparkling through the tears in them as Kallus looked at Zeb. “It might not make sense to you, but I love you, Zeb.” 

“Kallus, wait!”

But Kallus didn’t wait, and as soon as he blinked, instead of looking at the tender smile of that dashing blond man, Zeb was staring into the empty expanse of space, where the curdling shudder of colorfully exploding Rhydonium appeared just out of his view.

Kallus did not wake up again on the cool durasteel floor of the bridge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anath_Tsurugi provided us with a lovely Lasana term for a concept cooked up as a headcanon for Lasat culture. (Playing with the infinite possibilities is so wonderful and so fun!!)
> 
> “Jizam shamsa” is Lasana for “reborn vessel” :)
> 
> The concept was described as follows:  
> “It’s this idea where if dishes or clay pots or something breaks in a household, the Lasats gather all the pieces for years at a time before they go to the traditional market, (it’s bad form to throw them out).
> 
> “There’s a unique kind of pottery style where the broken pieces are fused together and reforged and shaped into unique pieces of art? And the collections are usually amassed over a long period of time, so when something happens, like a graduation, or a wedding, or celebration, the pieces are brought to the market and the recreated piece is a gift to the celebrated family member on whatever big day is happening.”
> 
> Hope you're still enjoying!! The next, and final, chapter is going to be beautiful, and possibly the best one yet. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Kallus woke, head pounding, body aching, and certain he could save Zeb – and the ship – _this_ time. 

“There you are,” said a gentle voice that was most definitely _not_ Admiral Yularen or Kix. “You were far away, weren’t you?”

Blinking, Kallus opened his eyes and found a dark-clad figure sitting next to him – on a bed? 

He squinted and the figure came into focus, as did his surroundings.

He wasn’t on the Republic Destroyer; he was in a Rebel med bay. And while he was looking at a Jedi, it was Luke Skywalker, not any of the Clone War-era heroes.

“Kal?” asked a painfully familiar voice and then Zeb – _his_ Zeb, not the young one he’d spent over a week with – stepped up behind Skywalker, looking over the Jedi’s shoulder at Kallus. “You’re awake!”

“Zeb?” Kallus found his throat was dry and raw, but none of that mattered because Garazeb Orrelios was whole and healthy in front of him. He was real and present and he hadn’t died on that refueling ship. Somehow, he’d escaped and relief welled up in Kallus’s chest, a flood of warmth and pressure inside him.

“Medics said to take it easy on the talkin’,” Zeb said. “You breathed in a lot of smoke, buddy.”

Kallus wasn’t going to let a medic’s suggestion keep him from getting answers. Despite his welling tears, he locked eyes with Zeb, as if Skywalker wasn’t even there. “What happened? How’d you get off the ship?”

“There were two hallways leavin’ the bridge, Kal. We got out the other way when you warned us. Last of my guys out heard you call for us, so he went back for you. Found you unconscious with that head wound–” and here Zeb drew a finger across his own temple, mimicking Kallus’s injury “–and dragged you out just before the ship fell apart.”

 _I love you_ almost slipped from Kallus’s lips, but he held back. Better to save that for when they were alone. “Why a Jedi?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from Zeb to look at Skywalker once more.

“You weren’t just unconscious, Captain,” said Skywalker. “You’ve been completely unresponsive for nearly ten days. Up until an hour ago, you were on life support. I arrived on base to meet with Commander Antilles and he suggested I see if I could bring you out of the coma using the Force. Captain Orrelios has refused to leave your side and with his help, I was able to draw your consciousness back to the surface.”

Kallus frowned. The idea of a Jedi playing with his mind didn’t sit well, especially considering what he’d experienced. “An hour? Zeb?”

“Yes. I’m not sure where you were in your mind, but you were quite hard to reach. It was only with Captain Orrelios’s assistance that I was able to break through the cycle you were stuck in. It was his connection to you that provided the key.”

Kallus looked back to Zeb, but the lasat was still smiling, not giving anything away. “How–?”

Skywalker shrugged. “I’m still learning a lot about the Force myself, but it seemed to me that somehow, you’d tapped into the Force. Your consciousness was bound up in it, festering.” He pushed off the bed, standing again. “When you feel better, I would love to hear what you experienced. It might help me in my studies.”

“Fine,” Kallus said, at a loss for anything else.

“Rest and heal, then, Captain. I’ll talk to you at a later date.” Skywalker nodded and left, slipping out of the room as quiet as a whisper, as if he’d never been there at all.

Zeb pulled one of the med bay chairs over to the bed and laid a hand on Kallus’s. “You’re not supposed to talk,” he said. “So I’m gonna talk. That okay?”

Kallus really didn’t have a choice, so he nodded. Zeb was probably going to lecture him about returning to the refueling ship as it exploded and, frankly, Kallus deserved that. He braced himself for the lasat’s admonitions. 

“There’s this story someone told me earlier,” Zeb said, staring straight into Kallus’s eyes. It was almost uncomfortable, but Kallus didn’t want to look away from those green eyes, not when they _recognized_ him again.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Quiet,” chastised Zeb. “This story was about a lasat guardsman and his best friend. I think the story went something like this: they were enemies until they realized they weren’t that different. And so they took a step forward together. And another. And another and another until neither of them believed they’d walk apart again.”

As Zeb spoke, Kallus stiffened, eyes widened in fear. This was _his_ story, the story he’d told Zeb back on that Clone War-era ship. The story he’d told him over and over again so freely knowing Zeb would never remember it.

“And I think the most important part of that story was that the best friend loved the guardsman but was too afraid to tell him.” Zeb paused, blinking once, and bit his lower lip, one fang catching on the soft purple skin.

“Zeb, I–” Kallus broke off, words failing him. He didn’t know how Zeb knew the story, but he did, and now Kallus was going to have to deal with the consequences. He’d been so prepared to face them before, but after more than a week of confessing his love both directly and obliquely, he was heartsick at the thought of being rebuffed by _his_ Zeb, too.

“I don’t know what Skywalker did to us,” Zeb said. “And I don’t know what you saw, but when he used me to get to you, I remembered an event from my days as a young Captain. You see, during the Clone Wars, the Republic needed to use Lasan spacelanes. I was part of the delegation to the ship. And I guess you were there, too, even if I never knew it.”

Kallus nodded slowly. “I was an Academy graduate assisting the Senate’s retinue. I was seeing if I wanted to go into politics. It was the first time I’d ever heard of Lasan,” he said, coughing as he spoke.

“Well, yeah, that makes sense. I don’t think I ever actually saw ya. But in your mind, we talked. You did stuff. You saved the ship from something that never happened. You scared the crap outta me, to be honest. But you told me that story.” Zeb squeezed Kallus’s hand. “Kal, did you mean it? What you said before you spaced yourself?”

Kallus took a moment, trying to memorize the feel of Zeb’s hand over his, the warmth of it radiating up his arm. If Zeb was going to jerk it back in a few seconds, then Kallus wanted to relish every second. He took a breath and tried not to cough it back out. “Yes,” he said, feeling as if he were imparting some great truth and not a personal confession. Pulling on his planned speech from before the refueling mission so long ago, he continued. “I love you, Zeb. I’ve loved you for a long time now. Since Atollon, certainly, maybe even when you saved my life on Bahryn. You’re my best friend, but I want more than that. I understand if you don’t, however.”

Zeb nodded solemnly and Kallus braced himself for the refusal.

“I love you, too, Kal. The last ten days, thinking you could die any moment and there wasn’t a thing I could do to help you, have been awful.” Zeb picked Kallus’s hand up, holding it between his large palms. “The guardsman you told me about may be loved, but so is his best friend. He’s loved more than the guardsman knows how to say.”

Kallus tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. “Zeb, you mean…?”

“I mean.” Zeb stood and leaned over the bed, kissing Kallus’s forehead.

Kallus closed his eyes, feeling soft fur brush across his skin. He reached up, placing a hand on Zeb’s bicep before the lasat could pull away. “I was going to say something that night, but we got called on that mission. And then the fuel exploded and I didn’t know where you were so I thought you’d died and that it was too late. I had an hour. Just one hour, each time. I only had you for an hour and then you were gone again and one hour wasn’t long enough, Zeb. I want more than an hour with you. I want you for many more hours. I want this version of you, forever.”

“Kal, you can have all my hours. That’s what ‘I love you’ means,” Zeb said gently. “And you’re talking too much.”

“I don’t care,” Kallus said. “That hour that you experienced with me? I lived that over and over again the entire time I was unconscious. Every hour, that ship exploded and you died. I tried so many ways to get to you, to save you. No one would listen; no one except you that last time.”

“Well, you gotta admit, Kal, your method of getting my attention was pretty drastic.”

Remembering the feel of the blaster against his temple, Kallus squeezed Zeb’s arm so tightly it must hurt. He couldn’t help it; the fear and desperation flooded his brain again. “I needed to save you,” he whispered. “I couldn’t keep watching you die.”

“You saved me,” said Zeb, using his free hand to stroke Kallus’s cheek. “You saved everyone. But that wasn’t real, Kal. The only one who needed saving was you.”

He still needed to be saved, Kallus realized. He was free of reliving that hour, but it would never leave him. He could still feel the sensation of his body disintegrating around him, see the same thing happening to the younger Zeb, hear the screams ripped from both of their throats again and again and again and–

“Zeb,” he croaked, a thickness growing in his throat that made it even more difficult to speak. “Zeb, I can’t–”

“Shh,” Zeb said, suddenly looking worried. “Do I need to get you a medic?”

Kallus shook his head, still firmly gripping Zeb’s arm. “You. I need you.”

It took Zeb a second to respond, but he quickly scooted Kallus over in the bed, leaving enough room for Zeb to lie down next to him. He did so, sliding one arm under Kallus’s pillow and wrapping the other around his chest, pulling Kallus to him tightly. “It’s okay, Kal. You’re here. You’re safe. And I’m not leaving you.”

Zeb kissed Kallus again, this time on the temple. It was a soft, lingering kiss, a warm touchstone for Kallus to focus on.

And Kallus focused on it with everything he could muster. Focused on the meaning behind the kiss: that Zeb loved him, too, that he didn’t have to be alone. He dared not close his eyes, however, for fear of waking back up on that Republic Destroyer.

“I’ve got you,” Zeb said, warm breath dancing across Kallus’s brow.

Disregarding the fact that he was still hooked up to med bay monitors and fluids, Kallus rolled onto his side to face Zeb. He placed his hands on Zeb’s arms, trying to maintain skin-to-skin contact, not realizing he was pulling on Zeb’s fur. “Zeb, I don’t want to go back there. Don’t let me go back there.”

“Hey,” Zeb said, “Kal, I said I have you. You won’t ever go back there. You’re free and you’re here with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Zeb began rubbing Kallus’s back, fingers kneading gently. “And you won’t ever have to do something stupid like shooting yourself to save me. Stars, Kal, I knew it wasn’t real and that still terrified me. You gotta trust me when I say you’re safe.”

Kallus trusted Zeb, at least superficially, but it was hard to force that trust into the deepest parts of himself, where fear gripped tight. 

But as tight as fear held on, Zeb held on tighter. He talked Kallus through breathing more evenly, an exercise that seemed very Jedi-like; he must have learned it from Kanan. He stroked Kallus’s hair and face and back and sides, speaking softly the whole time, and kept Kallus grounded that way. 

Kallus kept a terrified eye on the chrono hanging on the wall beyond Zeb. The numbers ticked up, one by one, as the hour loomed closer.

He held his breath as the chrono flipped over to the new hour.

Nothing changed. Zeb was still there, watching him with love and concern. He was still there, in a med bay gown, heart beating fast and throat sore.

“An hour,” he said hoarsely. “It’s been over an hour.”

“Has it?” Zeb turned his head just enough to see the chrono. “I told you that you’d still be here. I told you you’d have me longer than an hour.”

“For all the hours,” Kallus said, reminding him of his promise. “You said all the hours.”

“I did,” Zeb agreed. “And I meant it. But Kal, you’re looking pretty rough right now. If I stay here, do you think you can get some sleep? Real sleep, not that coma shavit.”

Kallus honestly didn’t know if he could stand to close his eyes long enough to fall asleep. But seeing that time was continuing on, that he wasn’t reliving _this_ hour, too, knowing that Zeb was holding him safely in his arms… “I can try.”

“Try.” Zeb stroked his face again. “I won’t leave, not even if the medics try to pry us apart.”

Kallus almost laughed. “I felt the same way when you held me after taking the blaster from me. I wasn’t going to let anyone pull us apart.”

“You didn’t,” Zeb said. “And I didn’t want to. Now try resting. You still need to heal. _I_ need you to heal so we can take this somewhere more private than the med bay.”

Kallus leaned into Zeb’s touch. “You’re promising a lot.”

“Nothing I can’t deliver,” said Zeb, a bit of cockiness entering his voice.

“All right,” Kallus said. Tension still threaded itself through all the muscles of his body, as if stitched into each individual fiber, but he could see past that. The truth was his body was exhausted and he was only still awake because of the sheer terror of losing Zeb again.

Zeb pulled him close once more, lazily massaging his back and shoulders with one large hand. 

Relying on trust, Kallus closed his eyes. Even without sight, his senses were filled with Zeb: the feel of Zeb’s fur, the sound of Zeb’s voice, the way Zeb smelled. The only thing missing was taste and Kallus thought he might get to experience that later, after being released by the medics.

For the moment, however, Kallus slowly unclenched his muscles and gave in to his bodily exhaustion.

He woke, hours later, still in Zeb’s arms, exactly where and when he belonged.


End file.
